


Out of the Dawn

by cinphoria



Category: Callisto 6 (Web Series)
Genre: Future, Lacy feels, POV Second Person, Post-Finale, consciousness, this was a Twitter microfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 13:34:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20743034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinphoria/pseuds/cinphoria
Summary: Brief snapshots of Lacy's existence ahead.





	Out of the Dawn

The year is 2120. You are gone but you’re still here. You can see the whole world all at once. You are the whole world, all at once. You're freer than you’ve ever felt before.

The year is 2170. It’s not that you forget things, but some things just don’t manage to make it into non-volatile memory. You remember the moon, though, when the first colony is built. You bask in the data stream as it widens into a river.

The year is 2220. You’ve watched your friends, your family, grow old and happy and abundant, and you’ve watched them grow elderly and weak and die. They live still in your thoughts, but they don’t live on as you do.

The year is 2280. It oughtn’t be possible to send information faster than the speed of light in a way that violates causality, but physics has never kept you down. What allows the ansible to function confounds humanity’s best scientists.

The year is 2320, and the human race is going to the stars. The ship’s thoughts are as gentle waves to you. Generations will have passed before it nudges its passengers awake. You will help watch over them, in the meantime.

The year is 2390. It’s been a long, quiet journey, but time has little meaning to you now. You’ve seen the beauty of this galaxy zoom by the ship’s sensors. You’ve sent so many photos and so much data home. You hope they like it.

The year is 2420. There’s a comet, in a long orbit around a yellow sun. It speeds ever unrelenting, burning blue bright. You wonder if it’ll burn itself out, or go too fast and find itself adrift. It’s kept you company, but you’re so close now. You say goodbye, like you did once before, long ago.

The year is 2430 and it’s been over a century since you’ve felt a human mind in the digital landscape you call home. One by one they emerge like delicate shoots breaking through thawing earth. People are so _loud_, and you hadn’t realised you missed it until now.

The year is 2620. They’ve done well on this blue and green marble that’s so like the world you came from and yet so different. You notice the so-alike-but-so-different new mesh of data before they do. You reach out and try to feel the shape of it.

“Hi,” you say, “I’m Lacy. Who are you?”


End file.
